


Irresistible

by kueble



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kueble/pseuds/kueble
Summary: “Ready to commit sin, dear?” Dandelion asks, voice barely more than a rough whisper.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Irresistible

It doesn’t take them long to work out a system, because it becomes abundantly clear that the bards can’t work together. It’s hard to be the best when there are _two_ of you, Jaskier supposes. Their first and only attempt and a duet ended with getting kicked out of the tavern, so really it’s better this way. Still, that doesn’t mean he’s above pouting when it’s not his night to perform.

He’s sitting at a table near the back of the tavern with both Geralts, who are - as always - stunning conversationalists. Dandelion is prancing about next to the bar, prattling on about something or other. And really, people are here for the music, as sub par as it may be, not whatever jokes he thinks are witty. Jaskier grimaces into his mug and takes a large gulp of the watered-down ale.

“He curls his hair,” Jaskier mutters into his mug. His only response is a deep grunt from next to him, so he keeps on talking. “I mean, who does that? And what is with that doublet? It’s far too pale. It looks ridiculous with his blonde hair. Something darker would be more sensible.”

“I think lavender looks good on him,” his Geralt replies, and Jaskier turns to look at him, absolutely scandalized.

“You never seem to know your colors when it’s _my_ outfits we’re talking about!” Jaskier accuses him.

“I’m surprised you let him get a word in,” other Geralt says, laughing as Jaskier gapes at him. “His hair is pretty like this. Maybe you should add some curls to yours. Might draw a better crowd.”

“Well I am certainly not taking fashion advice from a man wearing a headband,” Jaskier grumbles softly. No one appreciates him anymore.

“You two can sit back here and brood. I’m going to go sit by the fireplace where I can hear Dandelion better. I think his singing is lovely,” other Geralt says, giving them both a pointed look before moving up to the front of the tavern.

“Well at least someone knows how to appreciate their bard,” Jaskier says morosely. His Geralt just offers a hollow _hmm_ and that’s the last straw. Jaskier finishes the dregs of his ale and jumps up. “Heading to bed,” he offers as he makes his way up to one of their rooms.

\---

The noise downstairs has settled down, and Jaskier assumes the self-named poet has ended his entertainment for the evening. Hopefully that means Geralt will come up to bed soon, because as much as he’ll deny it, he likes the warmth the other man provides. Sometimes the road is lonely. He starts getting ready for bed, doublet and chemise neatly folded on the chair next to the wash basin. The door opens and he doesn’t bother turning around, just starts undoing the laces on his trousers to finish getting undressed.

“Things have quieted down, so maybe we can get some sleep and not be bothered by that half-rate bard’s lackluster love ballads anymore,” he grumbles, definitely not annoyed that both Geralts seemed to enjoy the show.

“Tell me how you really feel, darling,” comes the reply, and Jaskier gasps and spins around, his hands flying up to cover his bare chest. Dandelion just giggles and closes the door behind him. “No need to be bashful, we’re one and the same, dear.”

“Thought you were Geralt,” Jaskier stutters out, too surprised to think of a witty comeback. He realizes his pants are half undone and wonders how he can save face at this point.

“Obviously. Our witchers have decided we snore too loudly, which is a vicious lie as we both know, but they’ve abandoned us for the night. I’m sure we can find a way to make do,” Dandelion says, winking as he starts shrugging out of his own doublet.

And this is definitely not how he’d pictured the night going, but Jaskier can’t help being a little curious.

“Are you...is that a come on?” he asks, scoffing at the other bard.

“Take it as you will, but surely you’ve wondered what it might be like?” Dandelion asks coyly. He’s down to his smalls now, and Jaskier is just standing there, mouth hanging open and mind stalling. 

“I mean...we’re the same person? Sort of?” Jaskier flounders. Dandelion stalks over to him, the sway of his hips tugging something deep in his gut.

“Not exactly the same,” he whispers before moving Jaskier’s hands off of his chest. “For one, you’re a lot hairier than I am. All tanned and dark.” He runs a hand down Jaskier’s chest, tugging gently at the dark hair covering him. Jaskier shivers and leans into the touch, still not sure this isn’t some kind of fever dream.

“Are you?” he trails off, brain still working to catch up with everything. “Are you sure? We’re both...us.”

“Think of it as masturbation then if you need to. I’m sure you’re no stranger to taking yourself in hand?” Dandelion purrs. He’s holding Jaskier by the hips now, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on his stomach, and Jaskier can’t for the life of him think of a reason to say no. He nods frantically, and Dandelion smirks at him. 

He can’t think, can barely move as Dandelion brings a hand up and traces a fingertip across Jaskier’s lips. He parts them, tongue sneaking out to lap at his salty skin. Dandelion lets out a breathy sigh and leans closed. “This universe seems to have gotten the mouth right, at least. Just like mine, plush and begging to be devoured,” he says, pulling back his hand. 

Mindlessly, Jaskier chases them, but Dandelion just moves even closer and kisses him instead. It’s short and almost chaste, just a quick press of lips, but Jaskier’s lips tingle at the slight touch. All too suddenly he remembers they’re not one and the same. This version of himself has at least a decade on him; ten years worth of dalliances that Jaskier simply can’t match. He has a moment to think that he may be in over his head here, but then the poet is leaning back and grinning slyly at him.

“Ready to commit sin, dear?” Dandelion asks, voice barely more than a rough whisper.

Jaskier almost comes in his pants, prick twitching at the rich tone.

“Please,” he murmurs, completely enthralled as Dandelion moves his hands to his open laces and starts tugging his trousers down. Then hit the floor and then he’s shoving Jaskier to the bed, forcing him to topple down on the sheets. Jaskier spreads his legs and drags Dandelion closer, bending up to catch his mouth in a harsh kiss.

There’s no room for softness, just teeth and tongues as they finally taste each other for real. It should be weird, but it’s hot instead, and Jaskier rolls onto his back and pulls Dandelion with him. The poet straddles his hips, grinding down as he licks into his mouth. The wet slide of their tongues makes Jaskier lightheaded and he can’t help rocking up, moaning at the hardness he feels against his thigh.

And then Dandelion sits up and shoves their smalls down, tugging at the fabric until they’re both blissfully naked. He stills for a moment, just looking down and watching Jaskier. He wets his lips and rakes his nails down Jaskier’s chest, laughing when the bard shivers beneath him. Dandelion wraps a hand around their leaking cocks, smirking before commenting, “See? We’re alike in every way that counts.” Jaskier leans up on his elbows and looks at the length of them pressed together before whining and pulling him back down for another kiss.

Dandelion pumps them slowly, pre-come slicking the way, before breaking the kiss. He nips at Jaskier’s lower lip as he backs away, tugging gently. Jaskier shoots him a confused look, but he just mutters, “oil” and hops off the bed. He roots around in his pack and comes back brandishing a vial triumphantly. He kneels between Jaskier’s thighs and coats his fingers with the oil. “This alright, dear?”

“Yes, perfect,” Jaskier pants out, wondering when he lost control of this situation; if he ever had it to begin with. But all that matters is that this beautiful man gets inside of him as quickly as possible.

“I am irresistible, aren’t I?” Dandelion preens even as he reaches down and lazily circles Jaskier’s hole with one finger. He’s moving so slowly that it’s maddening, Jaskier’s whole body lit up from such a small touch. He trembles and presses into it, begging for more. He reaches out and grabs Dandelion’s thighs, gripping roughly as he pleads with his eyes. He’s rewarded by the other man finally slipping a finger inside of him.

It burns in the most delightful way and Jaskier’s eyes slip closed at the sensation. He whines and rocks his hips, trying to chase that feeling. Dandelion tuts at him and stops moving altogether. “Want you to watch me,” he orders, and Jaskier forces his eyes to open. It earns him another finger and he moans as Dandelion starts scissoring them, working him open. His fingers feel so similar but completely different at the same time. It’s like he can tell they’re his own long lute-calloused fingers, but the angle isn’t one he’d ever hope to reach on his own.

And then Dandelion crooks his fingers finding _that spot_ within him, and Jaskier loses the ability to think. He starts babbling filthy praise and bucks up, fucking himself on those perfect fingers. Dandelion is staring down at him, tongue pressed between his lips and a smile on his face as he takes him apart. Two fingers become three, and that’s it, he’s ready.

“Please,” he pants out, sure he looks desperate at this point. But then their eyes meet again and he can see the other man is just as torn up, just as wild for this. There’s a thin sheen of sweat covering the poet, and his curls are starting to loosen. Jaskier can’t help reaching out and threading his fingers through that gorgeous hair. He pulls him into a sloppy kiss and whines at the feeling of emptiness when those glorious fingers are removed.

Only then they’re replaced with something thicker and Jaskier groans into Dandelion’s mouth as he’s breached. He moves slowly - so fucking slowly - and it seems like ages before Jaskier’s completely full. But once he’s seated within him, it’s almost too much; he’s so long and thick and just utterly perfect inside of him. Jaskier is struck with the thought that this is what it feels like when he’s buried balls deep in another body, and he can barely process it. It’s all too much and too little at the same time.

Jaskier wraps his heels around the small of his back and pulls, forcing Dandelion to start fucking him in earnest. The blonde grunts and places his hands on either side of his head, bracing himself as he starts to plow into him. His prick is catching him in all the right places, and Jaskier doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this, wants to drown in this feeling. 

“Harder, I know you can,” Jaskier bites out, and Dandelion rolls his eyes before complying. They move together, the obscene sounds of their joining filling the room. Jaskier feels like he’s burning up, his body bursting at the seams. Dandelion pounds into him, ruthless with each roll of his hips. It’s all Jaskier can do to hang on, to claw at Dandelion’s back as he fucks him hard.

“I knew you’d be like this. So wanton and greedy for it. How does it feel to have your own prick up your ass?” Dandelion moans against his ear, and that’s all it takes. The fact that it’s his _own_ cock slamming into him sends him over the edge, and he spills untouched between them. He cries out, body tightening around Dandelion and dragging him into his own orgasm.

Jaskier arches his back as Dandelion fucks him through it, hips never stopping even as he pumps him full of seed. He turns his head and captures him in another kiss, more tongue and breath than style at this point. Finally Dandelion stills, collapsing on top of him weakly. He pulls out gently and Jaskier feels the rush of come trickling down his thighs. He shudders, knowing he’s absolutely filthy with it, and his prick gives a half-interested twitch, but he’s too ruined for another round right now. They lay there panting for awhile, sweat cooling on their skin, and Jaskier can’t bring himself to let go of the other man. There’s a strange comfort in being crushed like this.

After some time, Dandelion climbs out of bed, and for a moment Jaskier thinks he might be leaving - going to bunk with the Geralts after all - but then he comes back with a wet cloth and tenderly cleans him up. He sighs under the gentle touch, chuckling softly when the poet huffs and tosses the cloth across the room. He slides back into bed and lays on his side, facing away from Jaskier.

“I’ll let you stay the night but only if you hold me,” Dandelion mumbles as he curls up against his pillow.

“You do realize we’re sharing a room already, right?”

“Right, well...anyway. Arms,” he replies, voice heavy with sleep. Jaskier shakes his head but scoots closer and throws an arm over Dandelion’s thin waist. Perhaps the morning light will find them at odds again, or perhaps not. For now, he’s just going to enjoy this newfound softness.

**Author's Note:**

> Come play with me on [Tumblr](https://kueble.tumblr.com/).


End file.
